


Macca And The Pea

by SusannahMalfoy



Category: The Beatles
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-07 00:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6778273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusannahMalfoy/pseuds/SusannahMalfoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul stays over at Mendips. Cuddly times ensue...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Macca And The Pea

**Author's Note:**

> This is purely fictional, written to entertain myself and you, dear readers. Contains male/male relationship (aka SLASH). Don´t like - don´t read. Easy as that. Comments are soooo very welcome. I bath in them. And then I cover myself with them when I go to sleep. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Macca and the Pea

 

Paul shifted around on the bed John´s aunt Mimi had made for him in front of John´s. Although she had meant well, it wasn´t all too comfortable. He sighed.

“What is it, Macca?“  
“Can´t sleep, me back is killin´ me!“  
“Ah, the princess and the pea...“  
“Shut up, you wanker! After all it´s always me kippin´ at your place.“  
“That´s because old Jim wouldn´t have me in his house after dark, `s not my fault, mate.“

Paul moved onto his side so he could look up to John. The latter had his left arm hanging out over the edge of his mattress, idly drumming his fingers on the floor.

“Still,“ Paul whispered, because god forbid Mimi heard them, “my back is aching. Whole day of school, and now I can´t get my well earned rest because this make-shift bed is too fucking hard to get a good night´s sleep.“

“You sound like an old man, Macca, ye´re only 15!“ John grinned.

“A good host would relinquish his bed to his guest,“ Paul countered.

Surprisingly, John scooted back against the wall, holding up the cover.

Paul´s curved eyebrows arched. “That a joke?“ he asked. “And if I get up and into yer kip ye´ll be calling me a bloody poofter, that it?“

“Nah, Macca, I wouldn´t dare, ye old fairy! Come on in before I change me mind. I´m just sick and tired of yer whinin´.“

Without a second thought Paul crawled into the bed beside John. 

“Just don´t hog the covers, Macca, or I´ll throw ye out faster than you can say `skiffle´.“

“Yeah, yeah, when I´m cold I´ll just cuddle up.“ Paul gave John a very cheeky look and a wink.

John looked at him in a very peculiar way. “I don´t mind if you do, Macca...“ 

Paul grew warm, blushing furiously and looked away from John´s face, but his eyes got stuck on John´s upper body. John, only wearing his boxers, sported a slim chest adorned with a tiny bit of coarse hair. Paul swallowed. 

Since he met John on July 6th behind that church in Woolton, his whole life seemed to revolve around the 17 year-old hurricane. No matter how moody and erratic he behaved, no matter how condescending he could be; he was a genius, a vulcano of esprit and energy, almost too much to handle for his mates, but Paul couldn´t help but be drawn into the flame that was John Lennon.

And although he hadn´t said as much, John couldn´t stay away from Paul McCartney either; couldn´t go several days without ringing him up, popping by (mostly unannounced, much to the chagrin of Jim McCartney), bringing his guitar, but often enough just keeping Paul company, talking about inconsequential things.

“Macca?”  
“Yeah?”  
“What´re you pondering on so hard, son?”  
“Huh?”  
“Forget it. Who was that bird on the bus today by the way? The one that almost sat in yer lap?”  
“Dunno her name, she´s in me parallel class. Lily or Lisa or somethin´ or other...”  
“She fancies the shit out of ya, son.”  
“Does she? Dunno, she´s not much me type, to be honest.” Paul turned around to fetch his pillow from the floor to get more comfortable beside John.

Somehow this last remark piqued John´s interest.  
“Who´s your type then?”  
“No idea. Only know who´s not.”  
“Am I?” John asked grinning.  
“Are you what? Daft? Yeah, you are. Definitely.”  
“No, I mean – am I your type?” John rested his head on his elbow to look down on his younger friend, smiling enigmatically.

Paul groaned inwardly. This was probably another test of John´s. He always said or asked daft things and expected a witty answer of some sort.

“Sure, Johnny, ye´re the love of my life, didn´t you know?” Paul said in an exaggerated girly tone.

John bellowed out a laugh and instantly stifled it with his own hand. But too late, steps could be heard from outside. Paul nearly jumped out of bed, scrambling into his own, both of them faking sleep when Mimi stuck her head into the room, mumbling a few reprimands, before retreating once more. Paul and John were dead silent for a few minutes before they relaxed and breathed normally again. John was the one who spoke first.

“I´m cold. Come back in here, Macca, it´s getting lonely without you.”

Carefully, as to not rouse Mimi´s suspicion again, he rose and slipped back next to John.

“The love of your life, huh?” John sounded incredibly smug.

“That was a joke, you nitwit.”

“Aw, Macca, don´t go and break my heart...” John scooted closer, giving Paul a pityful look.

“Stop taking the piss!”

“I´m being dead sirious.” John lifted one hand and lightly rested it on Paul´s waist.

Paul gave John a confused look out of his curtain of long, black lashes.

“Johnny?”

John cupped one of Paul´s round cheeks with his hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the soft skin. Paul closed his eyes and exhaled.

John moved a bit, until he was even nearer, their chests almost touching. His fingers had found their way into the nape of Paul´s neck, caressing the gossamer soft hair there. Paul cautiously opened his eyes a tiny bit to evaluate the situation. He was afraid to enjoy John´s tender loving care, because he knew what people called boys that liked other boys 'that way'. Faggots, poofters, turd burglars... And he didn´t want to be one of those they made fun of, or, even worse, threw into jail.

But the strange thing was, that with John, those tender feelings between him and the other boy seemed so natural and not dirty, tainted, or criminal. It was so easy to feel what he felt, and it bloomed without his permission.

John meanwhile seemed to feel Paul´s inner turmoil. “Relax, Macca. It´s only me. Only good ol´ Johnny, yeah?” he whispered softly with that voice that made Paul´s insides churn in a good way. It had a bit of an edge to it, and it was that edge that made it special. John was never particularly happy with his voice, but Paul loved it from the first time he had heard him sing.

“It´s only me, Macca,” John repeated and pulled his hand away, looking into Paul´s now open eyes. What words failed to convey this instant, looks tried to remedy. John studied the face of his young friend, marvelling at those soft, almost girly, features. Never having fit in with everybody else anyway, he had less ramifications with the fact that he was different in yet another way by having those feelings for his mate.

“I lied to you the other day,” he breathed into the space between them, “I didn´t lock meself out. I just wanted ter see ya...” he drifted off.

Paul smiled, the street light shining through the window, illuminating his face.

“I know Johnny, I saw right through ya... I guess I know you better than you give me credit for, mate.”

“Do you now. And what am I thinking now, Mister McKnow-it-all?”

Paul knitted his eyebrows in an attempt to look deep in thought. 

“I must say, in this rare case I am at a loss.”

“Shall I enlighten you then, Mister McCartney?” John said in a mock-posh accent.

“Please do, Mr Lennon, I am most intrigued,” Paul shot back wittily.

“You need to get a bit closer so I can whisper into your ear, Mr McCharmley...”

“McCharmley? I like that waaayyy better than `princess´ I must say,” Paul laughed quietly and shifted a bit closer towards his crush. His heart, having beaten at a faster than normal pace since he got into bed with John, sped up another notch. He could now feel the heat radiating off John even more acutely. All of a sudden, he felt Johns foot moving up his pajama-clad leg. He released the breath he hadn´t known he´d held, gazing longingly into John´s open face. 

Paul inhaled the scent that was uniquely John Lennon.

“You sniffin´ me, Macca?” John chuckled softly. “I think I need to take a whiff of ya meself...” he said and leaned in a fraction more, nuzzling at Paul´s neck, right where the pajama top began.  
“Mmmhhhh... delicious. Are you tasty as well?” he asked and let the very tip of his tongue follow the trail described by his nose earlier. Paul giggled silently. “Stop it, that tickles!”

John grinned at the antics of his mate. He found that a giggling Macca scrunching up his nose looked utterly adorable. A strong urge to hold and protect the younger guy welled up inside him and he reached out to pull Paul against his chest. Paul didn´t resist, but did everything he could to get even closer. Their foreheads now touched, their breaths mingled, making them both dizzy with the increased concentration of carbon dioxide. 

They looked into each others eyes, adjusting their faces so their noses wouldn´t bump into each other.

Paul´s heart fluttered, his chest rising and falling faster and faster. Should he dare and close the gap between them? Or would that be crossing a line, endangering their friendship, or wrecking it beyond repair? What exactly was this? He didn´t kid himself, he knew what he himself wanted, and that was to be as close to John as humanly possible. He lived for the little smiles and touches his mate bestowed upon him quite regularly and frequently. If he only knew if those feelings were mutual... But after John´s curious behaviour this night, there just had to be more than platonic friendship, right?

John started moving his left hand down Paul´s pajama top and slipped it under the seam where the skin was even warmer.

“Oh Macca, luv, why do I have to have such a soft spot for ya?” he breathed against Paul´s lips that were so, so very close to his. Paul moved his face a fraction closer and let his eyes fall shut. His courage didn´t suffice to go all the way. John, elated by the fact that Paul let himself be touched so relatively intimately by him, finally connected his mouth with the younger boy´s. He let it rest there, not moving, just enjoying the privilege of kissing Paul.

He felt Paul smile against his lips and the corners of his mouth lifted on their own accord. He pulled back without moving apart their foreheads; Paul´s dark locks tickling his face.

“Want more?” John asked, still grinning. Paul only gave a shy nod, and John slowly moved in again.


End file.
